A Dick Hard
by Meret
Summary: Clark tries to figure out Lex. The story contains some humor, a little angst, and a lot of flirting.


Title: A Dick Hard  
Author: Meret  
Rating: PG-13  
Spoilers: Are you kidding?  
Category: Slash  
Pairing: Clex  
Disclaimer: These characters are owned by Millar/Gough   
and the WB. No profit is intended. If I owned them, I'd be far to busy, not to   
mention exhausted, to write this.  
Web Site: http://www.geocities.com/meretsv/  
Feedback: meret118@netscape.net  
Summary: Clark tries to figure out Lex. Some humor, a little angst,   
and a lot of flirting.  
  
My thanks to Reetchick and Tarchannon. The story is much   
improved by their suggestions.  
  
  
  
A Dick Hard by Meret  
  
  
"I'll have a Dick Hard. What do you want, Clark?" asked Lex.  
  
" . . . "   
  
"Clark? What do you want to drink?" Lex raised his voice above   
the pounding music.   
  
"Oh. Um, I'll just have a Coke," he choked out. Clark hoped the   
poor lighting in the noisy club kept him from looking as incredibly   
dorky as he felt. Not to mention hiding his growing erection. Of   
course Lex had meant a drink. He was crazy to think anything else.   
He'd just been imagining things lately. Well, ever since he met Lex,   
really.  
  
Lex handed him his Coke and led them to the landing of a side   
stairway that was marginally quieter than the bar area. Leaning his   
arms against the metal banister, Clark pretended to watch the   
sweaty, gyrating dancers below, while sneaking glances at Lex   
sipping his drink. He had on a black mesh shirt so tight Clark could   
see his nipples, and black leather pants with a lace-up fly that   
hugged his form snugly enough for Clark to know he wasn't   
wearing any underwear. He hadn't known they even *made* lace-  
up fly's before tonight, but now all he wanted to do was undo the   
laces with his teeth.   
  
And his tongue. Definitely his tongue.   
  
The black made Lex's skin look luminous, as if Clark could warm   
himself by standing close enough. *This* was what it meant to   
describe someone as 'hot.' His whole body burned to touch him.   
  
Lex caught him staring, and raised an eyebrow inquiringly. Busted!   
He fumbled for something to say. He'd been semi-speechless and   
semi-erect at the sight of Lex since he'd picked Clark up in his   
Ferrari tonight. "So, what's in a Dick Hard?" He winced at what his   
mouth had decided to say. Where was a psycho mutant to run after   
when you needed one?  
  
Lex chose not to respond with any of the obvious replies, but   
smirked to let Clark know he was letting him off easy. "It's gin,   
vodka, rum and Sprite, garnished with lime," he said, raising his   
glass in illustration. "Do you want to taste?"  
  
"Uh, sure," he said, turning to face Lex. Of course he did. He was   
cool. He was . . . sophisticated. He could swallow Hard Dicks, er,   
Dick Hards. He'd expected Lex to hand him the drink but instead,   
he held it up to Clark's mouth, cupping his face with his other hand   
to steady the glass. Clark froze, the glass resting against his lip.   
Looking at Lex, he slowly opened his mouth. He caressed the lip of   
the glass with the tip of his tongue, and Lex gently tipped in a small   
amount of the liquid. It was wet and fiery, exactly the way he'd   
imagined Lex tasted.   
  
Lex stared at his mouth as if his eyes were a compass and Clark's   
lips were the North Pole. The pole part was right anyway. Clark   
was hard enough to pound nails, and he should know. He shivered   
as he felt the other man stroking his jaw lightly. It would be so easy   
to turn his head just fraction and lick Lex's hand, sliding his tongue   
through his fingers to caress the skin in between. So easy. The   
staccato music faded, drowned out by the sound of his heartbeat as   
the world narrowed to this one moment. Lex slowly lowered the   
glass and leaned in toward him, still staring at his lips. Clark closed   
his eyes, moving forward by instinct. He swallowed, then parted his   
mouth slightly and felt . . . nothing.   
  
Opening his eyes, he saw Lex three feet away, breathing heavily.   
Clark stepped toward him, but Lex turned around abruptly and   
faced the railing. He quickly drained his glass and let out a   
shuddering sigh. "So, what did you think of the drink?"  
  
Clark was confused, and not by the question. "It was okay, I guess."   
He wasn't imagining things that time. He *knew* he wasn't! What   
the hell was Lex doing?  
  
"It's an acquired taste."   
  
"I've never understood that. If something doesn't taste good, why   
continue drinking it enough *to* acquire a taste for it." He watched   
Lex tense up and wondered if he'd said something wrong. Frustrated,   
in more ways than one, he drank his Coke and tried to   
focus on the scantily clad people below.   
  
Okay, enough is enough, he thought. He was finally confident   
enough, irritated enough, or just plain horny enough to make the   
first move. Time to take the bull by the horns as his father would   
say. Actually his father would probably say, 'What the hell are you   
thinking!' *Loudly*. Clark squirmed internally and made a mental   
note to himself - when you decide to seduce your male best friend,   
don't think about your father's reaction.   
  
Lex broke the increasingly uncomfortable silence. "I never told you   
why I like gin, did I? When I was a small child I thought that gin   
must be what gave the Jinns in Arabian Nights their magic powers.   
I wasn't even old enough to read yet, Clark, so you can stop   
grinning. I wanted magic powers of my own, of course."  
  
"Of course. And being the budding scientist even then, you had to   
test your theory, "   
  
"Later, the doctor said I was lucky that it hadn't stayed in my   
system long enough to do any real harm."  
  
"They had to pump your stomach?" he said with concern.  
  
"No," Lex said, finally turning to face Clark.   
  
Clark grimaced. "You mean . . ."   
  
"Projectile vomiting. Better than Linda Blair."  
  
One minute Lex looked like he was two seconds from kissing him.   
The next minute he was talking about puke! Was he *trying* to   
drive him insane? Clark wanted to groan, and not in a good way.   
Concentrate, he told himself. "So you like gin because it reminds   
you of being violently sick?"  
  
"No, I like gin because it reminds me who I was violently sick   
*on*," he said, a smug expression on his face.  
  
Uh-oh. "Let me guess. Your father?"  
  
"Right in the face. I don't think he came near me for six months."  
  
Ugh. He sort of sickly considered if Lex's father had had a beard   
back then as well. And more importantly what sort of parents left   
alcohol out for a child to get into. "I don't think the gin makers are   
going to be using that in their advertising campaign anytime soon,"   
he joked weakly  
  
"No, I wouldn't think so." Lex absently swirled the ice in his empty   
glass. "Do you want another Coke?" indicating Clark's nearly empty   
drink with a nod.  
  
Clark squared his shoulders and stepped closer to Lex, deliberately   
invading his space. "Maybe I should try something harder." Lex   
froze. He reminded Clark of a cat spotting its prey, all coiled energy   
and hyper-alertness under a sleek surface.  
  
"Then *maybe* you should order a Maiden Blush. It's cherry   
flavored," Lex said cautiously, as if asking a question.  
  
"No." He shook his head definitely. "I'm tired of cherry." Clark   
willed him to understand so he wouldn't have to say it aloud,   
looking at Lex hard. Or hard Lex, he thought, sparing a quick   
glance down. Yes! He knew he wasn't imagining things.  
  
Lex narrowed his eyes at Clark as if he were trying to decipher an   
unusually difficult chemical formula. "Then I'd recommend an   
Alexander. That is, if you're sure you want something harder."   
  
Something eased inside of Clark that he hadn't even realized had   
been held tight, like a door suddenly giving way. "Don't tell me   
they named a drink after you?" he teased lightly.   
  
Lex smiled in surprise. "No, but a gaming club in London did name   
a drink after my father. It's called a Magnificent Bastard. It was   
meant as an insult, but he liked it so much he orders one where ever   
he goes now."   
  
Clark had never cared less about Lionel Luthor than he did right   
then. "So what's in an Alexander?" Could Lex's skin could possibly   
be as smooth as it looked? Was it softer behind his knees? In the   
crease of his thigh? What did his naked scalp feel like? What did it   
taste like?  
  
Leaning over to be heard over a particularly loud song, Lex said,   
"It's gin, creme de cacao, and light cream with nutmeg on top."  
  
The faint puffs of warm air against Clark's ear sent tingles down his   
spine that ended in his aching cock.   
  
"It's pale and smooth, but with a kick that sneaks up on you. It coats   
your tongue and leaves a slightly bittersweet aftertaste," Lex said   
slowly, each word a caress. "I think you'd like it."   
  
"Do you," Clark cleared his throat, "Do you have that stuff at your   
house?"  
  
"I assume so. Why?" Lex tucked the tag down in Clark's shirt,   
brushing the skin underneath as he withdrew his hand.   
  
The hairs on the back of Clark's neck stood up, along with   
everything else. "Will you teach me to make one. Now?" he asked,   
trying not to sound as if he was about 10 seconds from coming in   
his jeans. His whole body felt taut, as if he were stretching cell by   
cell towards something he hadn't been sure even existed before   
now.   
  
"You want to learn how to make an Alexander? Thinking of   
becoming a bartender?" Lex gave him another searching gaze.  
  
"No." he answered firmly, as sure of this as he was of anything in   
his life.  
  
"Clark . . . are you ready--"   
  
He reached into Lex's pants pocket quickly, not daring to linger as   
Lex inhaled sharply in reaction, and pulled out his car keys.   
Holding his hand up between them, he offered the keys on his palm.   
  
Lex hesitated, then nodded and took the keys without breaking eye   
contact. "Let's go."  
  
Clark had no interest in learning how to mix an Alexander. He put   
his hands in his pockets to furtively adjust himself, staring at the   
hypnotic movement of Lex's ass proceeding down the stairs in front   
of him. The leather stretched taut and then released with each step,   
each flex of muscle reflecting the lights in the club. But he   
absolutely wanted Lex to teach him to make a Dick Hard, he   
thought. Specifically - Lex's dick.   
  
He was suddenly very thirsty.  
  
  
End  
  
  
Author's Notes: I have no idea who first referred to   
Lionel as a Magnificent Bastard, but it wasn't me.   
  
Dick Hard - http://www.webtender.com/db/drink/3725  
Maiden's Blush - http://www.webtender.com/db/drink/567  
Alexander - http://www.webtender.com/db/drink/15  
  
I have no idea what an Alexander tastes like. The recipe  
sounds slightly similar to a Kahlua and Creme which I have had,  
so I described that.  
  
I can probably count on one hand the types of alcohol I've ever tried,  
so I just chose ingredients for symbolic reasons. This would most   
likely taste terrible, and with that garnish, might even kill you,   
so DON'T try this at home. In my mind though, this is the recipe for  
a Magnificent Bastard - scotch, sour mix, some bitters, grenadine to  
make it blood red, a splash of raspberry juice, served over ice,   
with a sprig of hemlock as garnish. 


End file.
